The Light of the Champion
by Enraged Avocado
Summary: Living in a world where anything is possible doesn't mean everything is easy. Eleven year old Harry Potter lives in this world of fantasy, but soon realizes that even in a world of magic and myth there is much to be discovered and much to be left hidden. Medieval AU
1. Chapter 1

_"And thus did the Four Founders exile the Sorcerer King to the woods of Robin to live the rest of his days in madness and solitude. The Royal Family fled to the island of Avalon, where they married the Crown Prince to Avalon's Witch Queen Morgana. The Founders established there the first Board to govern the realm of Hogwarts._

_The Founders' mercy towards the monarchy is told as a major cause of Founder Slytherin starting the Civil War of Green and Silver. This fact is much debated, as Founder Slytherin was not one for speeches. His personal recollections were destroyed in the final assault on his holdings._"

Hogwarts, a History; page number 394.

The constant pitter-patter of rain against the house was too much for him.

Harry Potter hated the rain. A lot of people talked positively of its smell or sound or feel. But Harry couldn't enjoy the rain, especially not on his 11th birthday.

Harry stared at the open window, soaking wet. The rain was easily ignored when he had something to do, but he had nothing to do inside; he was currently bored out of his mind. He looked down at his garden from his window. At least the rain was good for something. The garden technically belonged to his aunt and uncle, but he did the most work for it and he considered that a mark of possession.

Harry closed the wooden panel that was his window and turned to his room. It was nothing special, with a very rudimentary straw bed, a wardrobe full of second hand clothes, and a nightstand. It smelled of old oak wood and dry hay. Harry sighed heavily and flopped onto his bed. It wasn't particularly uncomfortable; it was just the idea of it that maddened him. Vernon Dursley, despite practically owning the settlement of Privet, still refused to buy him something half as nice as Dudley's or Vernon's own bed.

Harry stared at the ceiling, mentally envisioning how his uncle had taken over the mines and Privet with his new inventions, many of which were in fact created by the Ducare of Privet. His uncle was a fraudulent cad who Harry personally thought deserved the Seventh Pit. His uncle played on others' weaknesses and was a manipulative leader, everything Harry hated, as Harry was everything his uncle hated.

His boredom ebbed and he sat up, a new idea forming in his mind. The mines were not filled today, as it was a rare day with no shifts. He could going exploring, though it was rather dangerous.

But when had that ever stopped him?

A dangerous smirk flitted across his face. Harry jumped up from his musings and threw on a simple brown cloak, grabbing his conical lantern off of the nightstand. He went back to his wardrobe, opening the closet's doors, and dug through a pile of clothes to his stash of hidden items.

Once he had reached the bottom of the pile, he grabbed a small cylinder. He flicked the top open and stuck it into his lantern, lighting a fire inside of it. Harry pulled the cylinder out and placed it back in the wardrobe after a moment of hesitation. Nicholas Flamel had only recently discovered the secrets of Gubraithian Fire, and Harry's uncle had purchased an order of the Gubraithian devices as soon as they were on the market. Harry had managed to snag one in the excitement, and would not be able replace the invaluable tube if he lost it in the mines. He knew that the lack of light meant losing the tube was very easy, and so he decided it was not worth the risk.

Harry climbed down from the window, knowing he would not be allowed anywhere without Nanny Figg. He climbed the fence easily and faced south, recalling the mines as just outside the front gates. His uncle's newest project was connecting the mines' gates to the villages' to protect it from the raids, Goblin or Durmstrangian.

He set off, huddling over his lantern as the rain poured around him.

Harry wasn't interrupted on his way. The rain wasn't good for business so no booths or stalls were open. He could see lights in most buildings and the few people shivering in the rain were not the sort to stop him.

The guards were still at the gates, but Harry had no need for the front entrance. Harry was an adventurous sort, as evidenced by his current escapade. On a previous exploration, he happened to stumble on a passageway that led underneath the gates and into the Wilds. From what he could figure, it used to connect to the now destroyed manor. Harry supposed that the former Lord had escaped through here during the Revolt.

The entrance was hidden rather well. Harry had only found it by accident when he stepped on a rather rotten wood panel. He had smacked his face into the adjacent wooden panels while his leg hung in the newly made hole, leaving his head ringing. He had come back with his lantern the next day, explored the tunnel, and covered the new entrance with his own wooden panel.

Harry slid the wooden panel to the side and dropped down into the tunnel, earning a temporary reprieve from the rain. The passageway was large enough for a full grown man, but Harry could easily climb back up. He set forward, trailing a hand against the old grey walls the whole way through. The thin vines above his head reached down to even his height. He reached a large wooden frame similar to his window, covered on both sides by prickly bushes. He slid it aside, emerging into the forest of the Wilds just outside of the walls.

The rain didn't let up, and he could still hear it inside the mines. Harry didn't know if there was a Pit in the Privet Mines and neither did anyone else in Privet except for Ducare Sprout and his uncle.

Regardless of the possibility of secret prisons, Harry marched onward, lantern held aloft. The lighting wasn't ideal for exploration, but Harry was undeterred. He passed the small pond that marked his usual stopping point. He had never been this far, but not for a lack of trying. This was as far as Nanny Figg would allow him when he asked to see the source of his uncle's wealth.

Minutes passed as he continued forward, seeing nothing of interest after the mining equipment. What had he been expecting anyway? He had to admit this was turning out to be a waste of time. He had hoped for some odd rocks to collect or animals to try and catch.

He paused for a second, looking around for something- anything of interest. He had led a rather straight path until now, so he decided to head right at the nearest landmark. He found another small body of water to his left soon after and promptly turned right.

He only walked for a few minutes before the ground beneath him formed into a slope too steep to walk. Harry let out a strangled yell as he tripped, landing on his face as he slid down the slope. His lantern escaped his grasp and he scrambled for a handhold. His foot smacked a rather large rock painfully and he let out a pained gasp, receiving a mouth full of dirt as he did.

He roughly reached level ground after what seemed like hours, spitting out the dirt violently.

"Uck."

His body ached all over, and he knew he would have bruises for quite some time. His lantern was off a ways and he limped over to it slowly, favoring his right leg.

He grabbed his lamp and leaned against the cavern wall with one hand. He was tired and hurt and he definitely could not climb up that slope in his condition. He let out an exhausted sigh and tried to think of a way out of this situation. Continuing forward might lead to an exit somewhere in the Wilds, but he wasn't sure he could make before the morn. Nanny Figg would find him missing when she came to escort him to his lessons with Ducare Sprout and he would be in a lot of trouble for his escapade.

He let out another sigh and started forward, leaning heavily against the wall the whole time. He should be worried about making it out the mines alive, not about the discipline he would receive if he made it home.

The pain throughout his body dulled to a low throb as he walked. He favored his right leg This was just what he needed. He slid down the wall he had been leaning against and decided to take a rest. He pressed his head gently against the wall, but the wall pressed inward at the pressure.

The wall to his right lurched and the dead end separated in two, receding into the cavern walls with a smooth sound of stone against stone.

A secret passage! He got up a bit too quickly and a wave of fresh pain washed over him at the sudden movement. Regardless of whether or not he got home before he was caught, the bruises and limping would definitely give him away. Dreading the discipline he would receive at the hand of his uncle no matter his speed, he approached the new opening slowly.

His eyes darted around the opening. Nothing was visible, even when he held up his lantern in front of him. Despite the lack of vision, he knew he had no other options but to continue.

As soon as he passed the threshold, a chilling cold washed over him. Something was very, very wrong here. He covered himself with his arms in an attempt to warm himself.

Something _else_ washed over him- an intangible, otherworldly feeling of despair. He dropped to his knees, attempting to cry out but unable to hear anything. All traces of warmth left with any hope he had to escape, and all hope held within his being. The piercing fear struck him like an arrow and the last thing he remembered before succumbing to unconsciousness was a black hooded figure silhouetted against a great white light.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Enchanting is a powerful art, only to be undertaken by a man of plentiful skill and knowledge. The power to create fire and ice, to erect shields where once there was only air, it is not a power to be taken lightly._

_Creating a new enchantment requires an extensive knowledge of the language of the Ancients. Their runes hold magic within themselves that cannot be matched by any modern wizard. Enchanting is the arrangement of these Ancient Runes in a way that will allow the magic inherent within them to produce the desired effect. While the most famous use is as focus for sorcerors, any person can carve symbols._

_If you wish only to use previously created enchantments, it requires only exceptional carving skills. It is a simple task of transferring what you see on the page to the preferred medium."_

A Concise Introduction to Enchanting by Bathsheda Babbling; page 1.

Harry awoke to the smell of soil and chocolate. He hadn't dreamed.

He sat up abruptly, numb to any pain he had been feeling before he had passed out. His thoughts were slow and muddled and he couldn't feel any of his limbs. He twisted his body to shake his arms back into feeling frantically, eyes wide and worried.

Once he could wiggle his fingers, he breathed a heavy sigh and set about to getting the feeling back in his legs. He idly massaged them, eyes wandering to take in the room. An unlit candelabrum, a bowl full of an unknown snot-like substance, and a plate of chocolates sat on top of a small table in the corner. A single chair sat in front of the small table and candles glowed, mounted on the dirt walls spaciously.

Harry was able to feel all his limbs pretty quickly. He looked around again, checking for any other details he might have missed. There were none. He was pretty hungry and he thought about eating some of the chocolate, but decided to lie down on the cot he had woken in, mind racing furiously.

What in the world happened? That floating black cloak had been the reason he had passed out, of that he was pretty sure. And then the bright light… Had that been his imagination?

Was this that _thing's_ lair? No, somehow he doubted that. This place was too human for that.

He closed his eyes to think and heard a door slam open as he did. He bolted upright to find an exit where before there had been none. Harry stood as fast as he could, wide-eyed and thoroughly freaked out.

When Harry saw what came in after a few moments, he wasn't so freaked out. A tall man walked in with a wicker basket of vegetables, not seeming to notice Harry as he entered. He was rather hairy and covered in dirt, clothed in shabby leather armor with a sword sheathed at his waist.

The man noticed him before he was three steps in the room. Or maybe this was the whole home? Harry wasn't sure. The man almost dropped his food basket in pleasant surprise. His face lit up and he hurried to place his basket on the table.

"I didn't expect you to wake so early," he said as he approached Harry. His face grew somber quickly. "Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. I'm sorry that you had to experience the presence of one."

Harry wasn't sure what to say. Dementors? Then that was one of the seven Pits, right here in Privet! He had about a million questions, and nowhere to start. He decided to close his gaping mouth and watch this man carefully.

"I'm terribly sorry, how rude of me! My name is Remus Lupin. And you might be?" the man said, smiling through his beard as if he already knew the answer.

Harry wasn't sure he wanted to tell this man his name. How many reputable fellows lived as hermits in underground dirt houses?

"Er, Dudley. Dudley Dursley," he said causing Lupin to frowne, and Harry knew that the hairy man had seen right through the lie. Was he really that bad of a liar?

"Yes, well, you'd better have some chocolate,_ Dudley_. It'll help."

Harry inched toward the chocolate, not exactly sure why this man insisted on feeding him sweets. Was this man trying to fatten him up to eat? Nanny Figg had read him a tale about an elderly Wilds lady who had done such with two twins.

The man didn't take his eyes off him, and Harry didn't take his eyes off the man. Had this Lupin fellow been the one to save him from the dementor? If so, how in the world had he done that?

Harry felt around for the chocolates, eyes firmly locked with Lupin's. He grabbed a small one and plopped it in his mouth, chewing it slowly in the awkward silence.

Harry had to admit it was very high quality chocolate for a hermit. Harry probably couldn't even get this kind of stuff himself without resorting to thievery.

A wave of relief washed over him as he swallowed the first bit chocolate. Lingering feelings of doubt and fear vanished, and he felt inclined to trust this Mr. Lupin just a little bit more.

Wait, what?

Harry paused. He placed his hand on the table and violently spat out the rest of the chocolate. Sprout had tutored him on the subject of compulsion magic. Harry knew that there was a potion that could be used to convince people of certain _things_.

Harry had to get out of here, and get out of here fast. He started panicking, and Lupin gave him an inquisitive look. The door was closed and he didn't know how to open it. Harry had thought maybe this was an attempt to fatten him, but this was much, _much_ worse.

"Harry, are you alright? Is something the matter?" Lupin asked, stepping towards him and reaching out worriedly. How did he suddenly know his name? Had he been planning this for a while? Had he been following him or something?

Harry looked about wide-eyed, trying to find a lever or someway to open the door. He was pretty sure he could out-speed the haggard man, but if Lupin drew his sword…

Harry snatched the candelabrum from the table and turned to Lupin. He held his new weapon out in front of him in his best imitation of a swordsman's stance.

Lupin held his hands up in an expression of surrender. "Just put your weapon down and I'm sure we can talk about this like civilized people."

Harry wavered and almost put the candelabrum down. Or was that the compulsion magic? Harry's eyes flickered toward the exit.

"L-" the older man started as Harry interrupted, flinging the candle tree at his head as hard as he could. Lupin covered his head reflexively and Harry dashed towards the closed exit.

His hands scrambled across the packed dirt as Lupin hurriedly grab a candle off the wall to chase after him. Harry's hand pressed a small, pitch black spot at about shoulder height, and the door opened away from him.

Lupin started at a brisk walk toward him as Harry dashed through, immediately arriving upon the place he had fainted before. The entrance to the Pit was closed to the left, and the steep incline would be down-aways to the right.

Harry had no light, and pretty much no chance of climbing that steep incline. He darted to the right at full speed anyways, because anything was better than… than _that_.

Harry cursed to himself as he sprinted. He hadn't thought this through at all. He should have waited a little longer, gotten a candle and something to help him climb. He reached the incline and stopped to look behind him.

Lupin was cornering him, calling out for him to stop. Harry scrambled up the incline for a handhold but found none. He slid down and turned onto his back to face the now caught up man like a cornered mouse to a cat.

"I apologize for whatever is bothering you! I only meant to cure you from any lingering effects of the dementor's presence. Chocolate is a well-known remedy for their effects," Lupin said breathlessly.

Harry wasn't sure if he could believe that. And that still didn't explain why the man knew Harry's name.

"How do you know my name?" Harry asked.

"It.. it's a very long story that would be better told in the comfort of my home with some food and drink."

Harry stood, unsure of what to do. He could go back, wait for an opportune moment to nick the sword off the man's waist.

Harry eyes glanced toward the sword quickly. On second thought, he doubted he could lift it. Maybe he could wait until the man slept and kill him then, either by suffocation or by blade. He didn't want to kill anyone, but if Remus Lupin was what Harry thought he was… well, then Harry would probably be doing the world a favor.

After that, Harry wasn't so sure. Lupin had entered the dirt home with a fresh basket of vegetables, so there was probably some secret he could find. He'd have to be careful about the Pit, but he was fairly certain that he remembered where the secret panel was.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Alright, he could do this. If the man proved himself truthful, then Harry had nothing to lose. The man _did_ look rather tired, so he would probably be going to sleep soon.

Harry stood up and Lupin beamed at him. Harry held back a scowl as they returned to the dirt home. This man was patient with him, but Harry knew he shouldn't test the limits of that patience if he wanted to escape.

Back in the room, Lupin placed his candle back on its mount on the wall. He pulled the single chair out and gestured for Harry to sit.

Harry sat obediently, barely managing to keep a neutral face.

Lupin started to pace back and forth, one hand rubbing his bearded chin. "Where to begin, hm? Well, first off, you are Harry Potter, correct?" he said, pausing to raise one eyebrow at Harry.

Harry considered for a moment, then nodded his head abruptly.

"Good, well then I should tell you that I grew up in the same settlement as your father and that we became fast friends, along with two other boys. Your mother's family moved to our city when your parents were both fifteen."

Harry was completely still at this information, not sure on how to respond.

"Your father was very, erm, infatuated, with your mother as soon as he saw her. She didn't return his affections until they became adults and, well, that's when you came in!" Remus stopped to smile at him. Harry already knew that he had been born out of wedlock. His uncle seemed to think he needed to be reminded daily. They locked eyes, and Harry was more than a little creeped out. "You look very much like him, except for the eyes. You have your mother's eyes."

Harry didn't know what his parents looked like, but if this man really did know his parents... Well, this helped to form a vague idea.

The man _had_ known that he was a bastard. Harry felt hope form in his chest, his previous fears retreating to the back of his mind. He wanted so badly to believe this was true, that he now had someone to learn about his parents from.

Lupin continued, seeing the grin that split Harry's face. "Your mother was a master of enchanting. She started her own business in our hometown. Your father-" Lupin cut off abruptly, apparently uncertain of how to continue.

He sighed and crouched down to Harry's eye level. "Harry, you must know that despite what you've been taught, not all sorcerors are the evil people they are made out to be."

And just like that, Harry's whole world was turned upside down.

This man had just- Lupin had just implied that his father was a sorceror.

Harry wasn't stupid. He didn't have all that stigma and superstition about sorcerors as the rest of the world seemed to, thanks to Ducare Sprout's open-minded tutelage. Or at least Hogwarts. Durmstrang's royal line was famously magical and Beauxbatons harbored the veela clan, which spawned sorcerors when they mated with humans, as they often did. And well, the lost island of Avalon had apparently not even allowed non-sorcerors, going so far as to label them a derogatory term like Muggle.

Sorcery was unavoidably hereditary. So if his father was a sorceror, that would suggest that he- that he would be one as well.

"Harry? Are you okay?" Lupin asked. Harry's ears were ringing, and his face was pale. Lupin put his hands on Harry's shoulders to steady him.

Being a sorceror meant a lot of things. It meant constantly lying to almost everyone. It meant a life of being hated once your magic inevitably defended you, even against your will. It meant running from pitchfork-wielding angry mobs. It meant the Reapers of Walpurgis chasing you for the rest of your life. And if you were really unlucky, it meant the Reapers trying to recruit you for the rest of your life.

"Harry, you must listen. Our countrymen often forget in our fear of the Dark Lords that the Founders themselves were magical. Your father... He helped me through a debilitating sickness that has plagued me since I was a young child. I wouldn't have been able to continue living with it if it were not for magic."

Harry looked at the man. He had it all wrong. Harry wasn't scared of magic. He was scared of _having _magic.

"How did you fend off that dementor?" Harry asked suddenly.

Lupin stood up and grabbed the hilt of his sword. It glowed at the touch.

"Your mother enchanted this for me," he said as he drew it out of its sheathe.

He raised it high above his head, and brought it down in mighty a swing.

Harry's world was engulfed in light.


End file.
